Anonymous
by Alabaster86
Summary: An inspired young Mai, wanting to leave some kind of mark, writes poems for the prince.


**_Anonymous_**

It was at the back of Zuko's wardrobe, a keepsake box, just a plain old thing, simple lid and simple clasp. Mai discovered it one day, five years into their marriage. She was twenty two years old. Curiosity won out over Zuko's right to privacy, and she hauled it forward before grasping it in her hands and taking it over to the bed. She climbed up onto the mattress and sat cross legged. Her cat joined her, snuggling against a thigh and eyeing the box with wary green eyes.

"Let's see what Zuko's got in the box." She spoke quietly, giving the tabby a pat. A pang of guilt tightened her chest, and for just a moment Mai considered putting the box back where she had found it. She had a feeling, though, that Zuko himself had forgotten about the thing. Somehow that justified her actions and she undid the clasp. Giving the cat a glance, as if expecting him to encourage her, she opened the lid bit by bit.

Inside were scraps of paper with jagged edges, torn from some larger piece. Each was folded with careful neatness, the edges sharp and smooth as if loving fingers had pressed down over and over again until the desired edge was created. Something about the paper tickled Mai's memory. Holding her breath, she unfolded one, then another and then another until they all sat on the deep scarlet comforter, the yellow of the paper standing out like stars in the darkest, deepest of night.

Each one held a poem, written in neat characters, and each was signed 'Anonymous'.

~~~~0000~~~~

Mai recalled the first time she had seen that word and spoken it aloud. Reading a book of poetry, a volume she had snuck out of her parents' little library, it rose up from the page to greet her, a soft word, all round syllables that she sounded out carefully.

At the end of a poem, a particularly beautiful one that had stirred her precocious seven year old self, the word puzzled Mai. Was it someone's name? No, that made no sense. She looked it up, angry at herself for not knowing, and once the knowledge was in hand, found herself even more puzzled.

Did the writer of such poignant words not want credit for his effort? Was the poem scribbled down by some lonely person, dying perhaps, in a journal and stuffed away somewhere, discovered years later and published? That was a romantic idea and it stirred Mai's soul as well.

She had wanted to know who this anonymous person was, how she lived, where she lived, what her heartbreaks were, her joys. That couldn't happen, but Mai could write her own poems and not sign her name. Perhaps that was the closest to forging a link with this mysterious person from the distant past that Mai could ever get.

~~~~0000~~~~

Azula and Ty Lee ran about the palace gardens, red faced and shrieking. The princess would shoot the occasional blast of fire at her acrobatic friend. Ty Lee would roll and dodge, breathless with laughter, but a little bit afraid too.

"Azuuula, watch out. You almost got me that time."

"Then you'll have to be faster."

Mai, eleven years old, watched everything from beneath the gnarled old apple tree. She loved the feel of the rough bark against her back and ran her hand up and down the trunk sometimes, finding little knotholes and bumps, letting her fingers linger there. The leaves filtered the late summer sunshine and Mai's round, still child like face was dappled with light and shadow.

"Come on, Mai." Ty Lee came to a sudden stop in front of the subdued, black haired girl. "Come play with us. It's fun."

"Oh, leave her alone, Ty Lee. She's busy mooning over my stupid brother. Sometimes I think she likes _him_ better than she likes _me_."

The perky girl, dressed in pink, her hair damp with sweat, paused, giving Mai one last chance. "Are you sure, Mai?"

"Go on; I'm fine." Narrow gold eyes said more. They said that she hated playing with Azula, that she would rather be throwing her knives or reading and more than anything, those eyes spoke of Prince Zuko.

"Okay." Ty Lee whispered the word and gave her friend a gentle smile. She understood and she wouldn't tease Mai either, unless Azula forced her. That had happened more than once.

Mai tilted her head back and stared up through the branches. Some were leafless, the wood dried out and dead. There were small apples hanging from other branches, wizened looking things. The girl wondered if maybe the gardeners would cut the tree down one day soon. That would be a sad day for her.

She sighed and reached into her pocket, pulling out a scrap of paper with a poem written on it. It was amateurish but heartfelt and at the bottom of the page she had scrawled 'Anonymous'. Tucking it back into her pocket she closed her eyes and thought of Zuko.

When Princess Azula brought Mai and Ty Lee inside, into her bedroom, the older girl excused herself after a few minutes.

"I should get home now."

"Why?'' The princess's question was sharp, her look piercing.

"My mother, she's….."

"Forget it; I don't really care. Just go. You're no fun anyway."

Relieved, Mai said her goodbyes and left, making sure to close the bedroom door. Zuko's was just down the hallway. Daringly, she put her ear to the door, listening for any sounds coming from inside. All was silent. She opened it with caution, glancing down the wide corridor every few seconds. No one was about. Mai slipped inside and left the poem on Zuko's pillow.

She snuck out with equal stealth and then ran all the way home.

~~~~0000~~~~

"My box!" Zuko shrugged out of his heavy robes and yanked out his crown. He was proud to be Fire Lord, and gave his all every day, but the accoutrements of the position not only weighed heavily on his body, they symbolized all the work he had yet to do, the expectations of his people and of the world. It felt good to take them off at the end of the day.

"Um, yeah, I kind of found it in your wardrobe." Mai bit her lip and stared up at him from beneath her eyelashes. "I couldn't resist. Are you angry?"

Zuko plopped down on the bed and slipped an arm around Mai's waist. He kissed her cheek. "No; I haven't thought about it for a long time."

He picked up some of the poems and glanced through them, smiling. "Every time I found one of these in my room, I was thrilled; someone actually thought about me, cared enough about me to leave me these gifts."

"When did you know it was me?"

"It was you?" he joked, leaning in close to kiss her on the lips.

"You had another admirer?"

"No; only you, Mai, always you."

~~~~0000~~~~

**A/N: This one-shot is completely random and inspired by my reading of an anonymous poem. I hope someone out there enjoys it. **


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